Snowglobe

Dallon had never really been good with relationships. He was always too fast and haphazard; too willing to trust and too hungry to fall in love. As a result, he tended to get hurt often, always suffering at the hands of someone that he very well saw himself spending the rest of his life with. So when it happened, really, Dallon shouldn't have been surprised. He should have understood that this relationship was simply following the pattern set out by the last, and the one before that, and the one before that.

But he couldn't help the shock that settled within him as he stared into Brendon's cold eyes, pleading silently for him to take back his weighted words; for things to go back to being good---or at least what he thought was good. But Brendon wouldn't; he just wasn't that kind of person.

"I was never really into you," Brendon explained bluntly, looking near bored with the conversation that was taking place. "You were just kind of..." he flicked his eyes up and down Dallon's torso, disgust and regret burying itself in something shallow on his face. "There." He finished, leaning all of his weight onto his right foot. Brendon crossed his arms and scrunched up his face. "So...are we good?"

"Um," and Dallon didn't quite know what to say though he had certainly heard those words before, practically verbatim. Something pained squeezed at his heart, causing the organ to stutter for a second as he choked out a couple of unintelligible sounds. "Right." Dallon said, as if he had seen this coming. As if he had finally picked up on the pattern. "Totally." He said, and Brendon pulled another awkward face, like he was talking to a stranger and not the man that he had been in a year long relationship with.

"Cool." Brendon rolled back onto his heels. "See you on stage, then." He said, then tossed a small wave Dallon's way before he kicked the dressing room door closed.

The door shut with a soft click and Dallon stared at it, his eyes watery and soft as he tried to convince himself that what had just happened was a nightmare, or some odd stress induced hallucination. And though Dallon had always been good at lying to himself, he couldn't manage to follow through this time.

His heart ached once more and he let out a shaky breath. Jerkily, he turned around, blinking away the tears that were welling up in his eyes. Vaguely, he was aware of the muddy noise of hundreds of fans screaming for Brendon, calling his name as if he would ever care enough to catch it.

As if he would ever care enough to love someone back.

-

It felt good.

There was pain, absolute searing pain ripping his heart out through the gaps in his ribcage, but there was also heat beneath the palms of his hands and Ryan was writhing as he grazed the skin on his neck with his teeth. He sunk them into the flesh just below Ryan's jawline, reveling in the heated gasp that he let out, and the sensation on Dallon's tongue was acrid and bitter.

Ryan tasted like revenge, biting and angry; like hurting the person that ripped your feelings to shreds without batting an eyelid. It was good. So good. But some part of Dallon also felt like screaming out in anguish as he fingered the hem of Ryan's shirt, reaching beneath the fabric so that he could splay his hand out on the flat pale plane of his stomach.

For a moment, he pulled away so that he could get a proper look at Ryan's face. His expression was wild and fervent; he was all flushed cheeks and blown out pupils and messy hair spread around his head like a dark halo.

Dallon's stomach flipped and he dipped forward, this time catching Ryan's lips. He couldn't remember if Brendon had ever looked at him like that, but he decided not to dwell on the thought, instead clouding his senses with Ryan and the little noises that he was making beneath him.